The Mulholland Mermaid
by Raiderette Levin
Summary: A new version of The Little Mermaid set in the late 1960s, Los Angeles.


The surfers in Santa Monica dreamed of riding the waves at Waimea and Waikiki, but were content to shoot the curl along California's coast. They woke up before the rest of the world, downed some coffee and a doughnut, and drove their boards to the shimmering shores of the Pacific.

Most of them surfed because they were drawn to the mystery of the ocean. They loved the myths and folklore, the stories of Poseidon and the Kraken, and the real tales, the stories from Jacques Cousteau and Matthew Maury. They liked to joke about mermaids.

"Imagine if there really were all these beautiful women swimming around in the ocean, and nobody knew it," said Burt Stanley, a tall, tan 20-something who had given up college for the life of a drifter.

"Yeah, but they'd all be half-fish." 17-year-old Lee Raymer squinted up at the position of the sun to determine the time, knowing that if he was late to his sister's birthday party, he'd never see his board again.

Burt watched a small group of girls walk by in their bikinis. "That might not be a bad thing."

Lee determined that it was approximately 8:45AM, meaning that he had less than an hour before he had to head home and help prepare for the party.

"Well, I'm going to catch some more waves," Lee said, picking up his red surfboard. "If I see a mermaid, I'll send her your way."

Burt's laughter faded into the background as Lee lowered his board into the water and paddled out into the surf. He focused on the waves, oblivious to the mermaid that was watching him from the rocks.

It was her fifteenth birthday, and for the first time in her life she experienced the sharp salty breeze, the crying of gulls, and the excited shouts from the young men and women gathered on the beach. It was so wonderful and exciting, she hated to think that she would have to return to the coral castle that had been almost all she had known for the last 15 years.

A large wave rumbled toward shore, and she watched as Lee paddled toward it. This was the exciting part: he would stand and glide along the wave before falling in and swimming to the surface. It looked like so much fun, the mermaid wished that she had the legs to try it herself. She had a statue in her garden in its likeness-a small gold statue on a block of smooth wood-and was thrilled to see the very thing her statue commemorated.

The mermaid watched as Lee stood and met the wave. He slid along the curve of the swell, his arms out and his eyes fixed ahead, moving his body slightly to maintain his balance. His board drifted perfectly along the curve of the wave for quite some time-the mermaid was impressed-but then the front of his board tipped skyward and he was thrown backwards into the sea.

At first the mermaid clapped and smiled, amused at the fine show Lee had put on. But then he didn't do the next step: swimming to the surface. The mermaid wondered if maybe he had spotted her watching him and decided to put on an extra spectacular show, but when his board started drifting away and he had still not surfaced, she worried something was wrong and plunged into the ocean.

She sped toward the spot where he had gone down and spotted a foot, a leg, the surfer. His eyes were closed, and his normally tan complexion looked so pale. Humans were normally such lively, animated creatures, and his limpness worried her. She grabbed the foot and pulled until she was able to grab him under the arms and pull his head above the water.

He was heavy, much heavier than the mermaid had anticipated, but she refused to let the waters claim him. She heaved him toward the rocks where there was a small beach away from the other surfers. The waves and current were strong, but she persevered and pulled Lee up on the soft sandy shore.

As the mermaid gazed at the young surfer's face, she saw how handsome he was. His face was youthful-not wrinkled with wisdom like her grandmother's-and golden from many hours spent in the sun. He had a strong, defined jaw below blonde hair that was parted precisely to the side.

She ran a finger gently along his jawline, then pushed his wet hair away from his forehead.

"Please wake up," she said. "Please."

Lee did not respond.

The mermaid kissed his forehead. He reminded her so much of the small golden statue in her garden, so she kissed him again. She kissed his cheek and then his forehead, hoping it might cause him to open his eyes.

"Please," she begged. "You must live. You just must!"

Then she heard a sound.

It was not a sound from Lee-not a groan or gasp or cough-but the sound of crunching sand. Somebody was coming!

The mermaid kissed his forehead one more time before diving into the water and swimming to where she could spy from behind the rocks.

A lean, tan girl appeared wearing white shorts and a striped yellow shirt, carrying a blue plastic bucket. When she saw the motionless surfer, she dropped her bucket and ran to him, dropping down at his side.

"Lee!" she cried, shaking his shoulders.

Lee. The mermaid mulled over the name in her head. It was beautiful, perfectly suited to the handsome surfer.

The surfer began to cough and sputter, then slowly his eyes opened. The girl looming over him slowly came into focus.

"Molly?" he mumbled.

"Yes, I'm here. Are you alright?"

The mermaid ducked down further behind the rocks, hoping to shield herself from this person called Molly.

Lee came to life, groaning and hoisting himself up onto one arm. He held a hand to his head and winced.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm fine."

"You're grimacing," said Molly. "Is it your head?"

"I'll be fine."

The mermaid filled with relief that this handsome surfer was awake and well. She covered her shoulders with sea foam to further conceal herself from the small group of surfers that stumbled onto the small beach, Burt in the lead.

"Lee!" he bellowed. "You're alive!"

"Yeah, I'm alive," Lee replied, sitting up slowly. "I'm just a little shaken up."

"You gave us a scare, man!" said another surfer. "When your board washed up, we were sure you were finished!"

"I'm alright," Lee said, squinting up for position of the sun. He realized that it was now much later than he had intended to stay. "Aww, I've got to split!"

Lee got to his feet and stumbled. Molly reached out to steady him.

"Lee," she said. "You should get your head looked at."

He shook his head. "I'm fine. Where's my board?"

"We have your board." Burt looked at his tousled friend uncertainly. "You shouldn't be driving home in your shape. Why don't you let somebody give you a ride?"

The injured surfer hesitated. He knew he'd be fine and hated it when people fussed over him, but if even Burt was concerned, he realized he must look pretty bad. His head felt pretty bad, too.

"I'll take him," volunteered a dark-haired surfer with a deep tan. "I'll go load his board into my truck right now."

The dark-haired surfer sprinted toward the parking lot and the crowd parted to let Lee through. Molly picked up her blue bucket, which contained a few seashells, and tucked her long hair behind her ear.

"I'll walk with you to the truck," she said, and Lee didn't object.

He looked over his shoulder at the jagged rocks, sweeping the spot where the young mermaid was hiding. But he didn't see her.


End file.
